


Teacher/Student AU

by eff_reality



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 14:17:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1861086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Chris is the school nerd who just happens to have a huge crush on the English teacher.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacher/Student AU

"Chris. Can I see you for a moment?"

Mr. Quinto’s deep baritone is unusually bright, encouraging, but Chris’ classmates give him shit nonetheless.

_Ohhhhh. Pine’s falling off the nerd wagon._

"Shut the fuck up," Chris mutters, eyes on his feet as he shuffles toward the front of the classroom, an unfortunate silence falling just as the words are out of his mouth. 

Mr. Quinto looks over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow as he wipes the blackboard clean.

"I’m so sorry." Chris readjusts his glasses. They got stomped in the hall last week and haven’t been sitting right ever since.

"It’s okay," Mr. Quinto laughs, dropping the eraser on the ledge and brushing his hands together. A cloud of chalk dust curls up from his palms. "Just… uncharacteristic of you."

"I know, I’m sorry," Chris says again, his face hot.

"It’s okay, Chris." Mr. Quinto holds his palms out. "Believe me, I understand. I was impressed." He tilts his head with a sweet smile.

Chris’ stomach does a familiar flip. This is his third class with Quinto, and though he’s worked painstakingly hard to control his crush, he’s now a senior in AP and just as hopeless as ever. He’s not the only one; Quinto can’t walk down the hall without a girlish chorus of _Hi Mis-ter Quin-toooo_ following.

To Mr. Quinto’s credit, he’s never taken advantage or even been the slightest bit creepy about it. (And there have been teachers who have; Mr. Urban’s been living with a former student for almost six months now.) But Mr. Quinto remained sweet, cerebral, dedicated, and perhaps most painful of all, passionate about words.

"You wanted to see me?" Chris hikes his backpack higher on his shoulders.

“ _Yes._ I wanted to talk about…” Quinto pulls a thick paper from a pile on his desk. “…Your essay.”

Chris’ stomach flips, but this time for a much different reason. He panics. “What’s wrong with it?”

Mr. Quinto laughs harder than before, swiping a hand over his face. “ _Nothing._ Slow down—you’re getting way ahead of me. It’s wonderful,” he says quickly, just to calm Chris’ nerves. “Chris.” The amusement suddenly drains from his voice. He walks around the desk, leaning against it, gesturing with Chris’ tome. “I have to tell you: this isn’t just college-level work; this is _graduate_ level work.”

"Oh, wow," Chris mutters, shuffling his feet. The guys on the baseball team are bound to get a real kick out of this.

Quinto sets the paper aside and crosses his arms, his eyes cripplingly empathetic. “You know. When you get to college next year, you’re going to blow your professors away. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re really going to come into your own.” He gives Chris a playful cuff on the shoulder. 

This is getting dangerously personal. Chris wants to die. “Thank you.”

"My point is, you should look into getting your paper published. I think it has a real shot."

"Really?" Chris looks up at him, fixing his glasses again.

"Absolutely." Quinto flails an arm for emphasis. When his hand lands on his thigh, it leaves a partial handprint on his dark jeans. He sighs with annoyance. "I don’t know how much longer I can survive in here without a SmartBoard. I won’t hold my breath, though. I’m a bit of a pariah amongst the faculty, I must confess."

That pulls a genuine smile out of Chris.

"Anyway. Please consider it. I’d be happy to help get the ball rolling."

"Thanks, Mr. Quinto. I’ll definitely think about it." 

Chris apologizes to the desk he bumps into on his way out of the classroom.


End file.
